Operation refrigerator replacement

Well this was just one of “those” weeks but it didn’t really start on Monday. It started in late September when we bought a new refrigerator.

Now I wish I could say that we made this substantial purchase for a fun reason like we were remodeling the kitchen but noooooo. It was more like a we-are-leaving-on-ourfirst-vacation-in-five-yearsin-two-days and the refrigerator died a screeching, howling, grinding, shaking death purchase.

I won’t go into the whole gory story of how we had to store what few groceries we had in ice chests in the kitchen and apologize profusely to our house sitter for not having a usable refrigerator for her during her five day stay story but, needless to say it was a PITBA (pain in the butt) for one and all.

When we returned from vacation, we were notified that instead of the refrigerator being delivered in just two more days, it would be another two weeks.

Ooook, a completely first world, white privilege problem but still a huge PITB.

Fast forward to exactly 30-days after the delivery of the new white behemoth with its double refrigerator doors and bottom, slide-out freezer drawer and things started to go wonky. The frostless freezer began building up frost and the drawer started to stick so it couldn’t be opened all the way. I called the company from whom we made the purchase. It would be two weeks before they could get a repair guy out and that, was this week.

In the meantime, every time I opened the freezer drawer, it spit ball bearings at me. I had a brand new appliance that was literally falling apart one little piece at a time.

By the time the repair guys showed up on Tuesday, I had quite a collection of tiny silver stainless steel balls to show them. Thing was though, when they walked in the door they said, “We’re here to fix the handle on your freezer.”

Say what? The freezer doesn’t have an external handle. The handle is built in as a recess in the top of the drawer.

“Oh,” said the repair guy and then “Oh wow” as I handed him the yogurt carton filled with ball bearings and opened the freezer drawer to show him the “stick” as another ball bearing fell onto the floor. And, then, “We can’t fix that. You need a replacement.”

Ooook fine. And when will the replacement be delivered?

“Someone will call you,” he said.

I have to admit to responding with an out loud eye roll and face palm.

Someone named Karey did call me on Thursday to schedule the replacement delivery. I missed the call which would turn out to be my bad.

I called Karey back. Got a guy named Armando who didn’t know who Karey was and even after I gave him all the details — including the original order number and the repair order number and all my personal details including when my first and only child was born but not my blood type — didn’t have the foggiest idea what I was talking about. So, he transferred me to Alicia who — after taking the various order numbers and all my personal information this time including my blood type — also didn’t know Karey (or Armando for that matter) and didn’t have the slightest clue what I was talking about. She then transferred me to Edmond who didn’t know Karey, Armando or Alicia nor did he know what I was talking about even after I provided him with the order numbers and personal information including name, address, phone number, email, date of my child’s birth, my blood type, my birthday and my mother’s maiden name. So he transferred me.

By this time, I was 90 minutes into the process and what little patience I started with was long gone and my irritation was bubbling like a volcano ready to erupt. I was done. Just done. “This wasn’t rocket science,” I said to Shanequa who answered the fifth transfer of my call for Operation Refrigerator Replacement.

Shanequa also took all the details foregoing my daughter’s birth date, my birth date, my mother’s maiden name and my blood type and, miracle of all miracles, found the information in the system. After more than two hours, I fairly melted off my chair in relief.

The replacement refrigerator will be delivered on Dec. 7. OK not ideal but also not the end of the world, I thought walking into the kitchen to get a glass of ice water. I gently opened the freezer as far as it would go to get some ice and that’s when it all went wrong or maybe I should say “it went more wrong.”

Just as I was shutting the drawer another ball bearing fell out. Somehow it got under my left foot and much like a cartoon character slipping on the proverbial banana peel I started to scramble but couldn’t get traction. Down I went, hard. But in the going down I grabbed the freezer drawer which at that moment decided to unstick and slam shut — on my thumb.

So there I lay, flat on my back, in a puddle of my own self-pity feeling the knot on the back of head growing and looking at my bleeding thumb stuck in the freezer drawer. I was a fish out of water, flopping around trying to get some kind of leverage to get my thumb out of the freezer, which now seemed to be stuck shut, and the rest of me off the floor. It wasn’t pretty but it was what my husband saw when he walked into the room.

“Are you OK? Do you need help?” he asked kneeling down next to me, his face full of concern.

Again I rolled my eyes out loud but couldn’t pull off an effective face palm what with one hand stuck in the freezer and the other grappling on the floor hopelessly trying to get traction.

“No. No, I’m fine. Really. Just taking a little lie down. It’s been a long week.”

“How about a pillow and blanket?” he asked.

“That would be great. Thanks,” I said.

It was his turn to roll his eyes and palm smack his face before literally prying open the freezer, releasing my hand and helping me up off the floor.

Pretty sure I have a concussion. I know I have whiplash and the top of my right thumb looks like an angry papaya but, hey, at least I’ll have a new refrigerator in three weeks so I have that goin’ for me. In the meantime — anyone need some ball bearings? I seem to have a never-ending supply.